Three stops to Central Crossing
by cornwallace
Summary: Fox finds himself on a train to Krystal's house with a box full of her old things that she left behind at his place. How will this encounter with an old flame effect him?


The train rocking gently is comforting as I lean the back of my head against the window behind me. Fur parting near center, opening up a small amount of bare skin to be chilled by the touch of the cool glass. The rest protected by matting fur.  
Steady, rhythmic.. Eyes fluttering closed on their own. The distant chatter of the few other passengers in the cabin around me.

Alert myself with the tail end of a snore. Eyes pop open, clutching the box in my lap tight against me. Eye the people around me suspiciously. Minding their own business, it doesn't look like anybody noticed or cared I was sleeping.  
Not that it should bother me. How silly of us to have these anxieties over trivial instances that amount to nothing.

I'm awake now, though.  
A loud yawn escapes me.

* * *

 **Three stops to Central Crossing**

* * *

Blink a few times. How long was I asleep? I didn't miss a stop, did I...?

The dotted red digital letters travel across the ticker just under the ceiling in circles, much like the train on its track. Not quite as quickly, though. Such strange thoughts I seem to find myself having.  
The words NEXT STOP FARTHING FOLLOWED BY scroll by me and I stop reading. Probably cut that a bit close. I should be more careful.  
Perhaps I should stand? Yawn again and try to muster the strength to get up.

Tucking the box of Krystal's things under my arm, and groan softly to myself as I get up from the seat to make my way to the support bar nearest the doors.  
Looking around to see if anyone noticed that grunt, and if anybody's judging me for it.

Get your shit together, Fox, you paranoid fuck.

The train whines and hisses to a slow and steady stop as the compressed air pushes hard against the brakes. Blocks grinding against wheels.

Before long, the doors open.

It's a nice, cool day, weather wise. Light breeze shielded by my pilot's coat. A lot of people prefer sunny, but I rather enjoy the dreary atmosphere of an overcast day.  
I love the rain, just as long as I don't get caught in it.

Doesn't look like rain, yet. I do hope it does later, though, when I'm safe in the warmth and comfort of a nice bed from behind a drawn curtain. A relaxing prospect.  
Readjust the box under my arm and put a little jump in my step. Walking briskly. I'd like to be early, or at least on time.

The phone in my jacket pocket starts buzzing and ringing. Of course it's in the pocket on the same side as the box I'm carrying, because I'm a world class fucking chump and I don't keep track of that shit. First I try and reach over the box and into the pocket but that doesn't work as well as I'd like it to. So I shift the box over to the other arm, which I should have done in the first place, and I dig the phone out and flip it open.

Shit. Falco.  
The WompaLonga's gig. Fuck, I don't want to talk about that.  
Noticing I've stopped dead in my tracks, I stare at the phone for a moment. Goddamnit, fuck. What do I do. I really, really don't wanna talk to him right now. Not about this. It'd be so easy to just skip it. He'd be pissed. He'll already be pissed. Fuck, I gotta.  
Boop.

"Hello?"

My body reacted without me telling it to by pushing the button and putting the phone up to my ear. Immediately I regret this decision.

"Fox. Heyyyyy. Where the fuck are ya, buddy?"

"Farthing street. Headed over to Carnesworth."

Fuck. Carnesworth is the street WompaLonga's is on. He's gonna think I'm on my way. Maybe I shouldn't have said that.

"Ah, good, so you'll be here in about five minutes?"

"Negative."

"What? How long is it going to take?"

"I uh. Listen. I can't make it today, man, I'm sorry."

"What? You just said you were on your way."

"Eheh. No. I said I was on Farthing, headed over to Carnesworth."

"And what the fuck would you be doing there if you weren't on your way."

"Stuff."

"Oh, great. So you're fucking bailing on me."

"Well, I never officially signed up so. They won't break contact with you, or anything. It'll be fine."

"Fine my cloaca, they're gonna pay me half without you."

"Look, man. I'm sorry the team was named Star Fox, but that was my dad's idea. I got nothin'."

"Yeah, well, I'm glad he's dead." Falco's sense of humor is lost on most people. He wouldn't have said that if he'd thought it'd hurt my feelings, but other people pick up on him saying shit like that and think he's a dick. You could say I'm just as bad, just more, you know, situationally aware.

"I'm not," I say, realizing I'm standing still on the sidewalk, taking up space. I begin walking and say, "why, if he were here right now I'd sock him in the diaphragm for not making my friend Falco way more money than he needs for three hours of work."

"Ha ha, very funny, Gallagher." I don't know what a Gallagher is but I don't understand a lot of his references, I just kind of gloss over them.  
Perhaps I'll look a Gallagher up later. Probably not, though. I'll forget.  
Whatever.

"If you look up Fox McCloud in the dictionary, it says 'very funny fox.' Look at it this way, you'll get paid fairly, and I'll get nothing. If anything, that's poetic justice."

"I'm after a yacht, you plug. You owe me."

"I'll try to catch the next advertising gig you do. No promises."

"You never promise shit, what else is new?"

"I don't like breaking promises, what can I say."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll call you on Thursday."

"Sounds good." He's already hung up.

Stop to look at the phone. Close it and pocket it.  
Resume.

Interacting with others is seldom as bad as it feels like it's going to be.

Just down the street is the Tannington Flower Shoppe. I pick up fifty carnations, because I'm an asshole.  
The cashier eyeballs me funny and I think I say something stupid but I try not to think of it on the walk back to the train station.

* * *

Feeling myself start to nod off on the train again, this time someone else drags me out of it.  
First, brief shock at stirring. Then mild panic at the prospect of interaction.

"Hey," says the rabbit again, smiling. Trying to get my attention. "Hey, you're Star Fox."

Try not to grimace.  
Feign a smile.  
Really don't want to deal with this shit right now but. Fuck, I don't wanna ruin this kid's day. I can imagine what it'd be like to feel stupid in front of someone who respected you because I've been there, and I don't like to.

"Fox McCloud," I say, trying to subtly blink myself awake while I adjust my coat. I look at him and lean forward, elbows on my knees. Maybe that'll help with the falling asleep bit. "You can just call me Fox."

Reach out my hand. He eagerly shakes it.

"My name's Jack. I'm such a big fan of yours, man. We'd all be robots if it weren't for you."

"Hey, Jack, I just did what I could for people like you, man. Not fans, I mean. Just, you know. All the people. Like you."  
I hope he's not a dick, while I'm saying this. I hope I'm not somehow encouraging him to keep being a dick.

"I just want you to know that I appreciate you flying around in space and protecting the galaxy like you did. That was real brave, even if you were just a mercenary."

"I'm just glad I could do some good, Jack."

"That's what makes you a hero!" He laughs, shaking my hand more. I'm wishing he'd let go and he does. I've been wishing that. "Say, could I get an autograph?"

"Sure, anything."

He doesn't have anything to write with or on with him, so he asks around. I'm impatient, but I know it's not his fault.  
I hate to secretly take out my frustration on him so I try not to.  
Doesn't seem like anyone has anything so I offer to take down his address in my phone and send him something and this seems to please him. I make a note in my cell and take down his information just in time for the train to squeal to a stop at the street I need to get off at.  
He thanks me and I thank him before trying to excuse myself but not before he offers his hand once more to shake. I hope it doesn't take forever and it doesn't. I smile and nod at him before grabbing the box and the flowers from the seat next to the one I was sitting in and getting off the train.

I head down Musk street through to Temper lane.  
At the end of Klebb, I find myself knocking at her door.

After a moment, Krystal answers. She looks at him, then she looks at the box, then she looks at the flowers.  
And I look at the flowers, too. And suddenly I feel like a dumbass because it never occurred to me what that might initially imply.

Before we even greet each other I'm nervously laughing.

"I'm sorry, these aren't for you. I'm making a few stops on this trip."

"Ah."

Goddamnit I'm such an idiot goddamn fuck fuck shit krrr.  
"This IS for you, though," I say, hoping she doesn't think I'm a disease. She takes the box and looks at it. "You're old shit," I say. "Er, stuff."

It takes her a moment but she looks up and smiles and thanks me.

"Can I come in for a second? I just want to talk to you about some stuff. I won't take long."

"Of course," she says, opening the door wide behind her, leading me in. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I say, walking past her. "I'm fine. Of course I'm fine."

"Ha," she says, closing the door behind her. "Of course he's fine, he says. Would you like me to get you a cup of coffee?"

"I can get it," I say, setting the flowers on the table.

"Sit, sit," she insists, gesturing towards the chair nearest me and the carnations. I relent and pull it out before seating myself.  
She sets a cup of coffee, black, like she likes it, and sits in the chair next to me. I try to enjoy it anyway.

Angling it to face me. Sipping her coffee with her mug in both hands.  
Setting it down on the table next to her.

Those eyes will always get to me, I think. If only just a little bit. I find myself with a warm, tight-lipped smile.  
"How are you doing?"

"I am doing well. Were you lying to me when you said you were okay?"

"Of course not. I'd never do such a thing."

"Would you tell me if you were lying?"

"Maybe." A sly smile.

"Should I read your thoughts?" she asks, raising her eyebrows playfully.

"Go ahead," I say, laughing. If anyone else had the gift of telepathy I'd be nervous, but you could say I trust her more than anybody. "Prove yourself wrong."

"You know I won't," she says, sipping her coffee. "Even if you give you permission."

"I do," I say. Look down at the carnations, and up at her.

"Is your husband around?"

"Panther is off helping some fanfiction of life manage to not suck less."

"Hahahaha. Fanfiction of life?"

"You know, some movie. His name wasn't shouted from the mountain tops, as you say, but he's seen a lot of shit. Plus, he's smart, so he makes an excellent adviser."

"I bet," I say, forcing another smile. While our interactions were shitty, I don't know the guy so well and I can't exactly hold a dumb grudge against a guy I barely even know for shit I did to lose my ex girlfriend. "Listen, I'm here for a reason. Uh. Other than to just give you your shit back. I shoulda done that a long time ago, and it'd be a valid enough reason but. Fuck, I'm rambling."

"I thought you said you were okay."

"I am. Haha, no really. I am. I just wanted to say this because I was so bitter when we broke up and you were immediately with him, on Star Wolf. Uh. I get it. I get why you left me and did the things you do."

I can see the frustration in her eyes. Perhaps some guilt, and I hate to think she'd feel guilty for anything.

"Please do not beat yourself up," she sighs, nursing her coffee. "You know how I feel about that."

"I'm not," I say, trying to find the words. "I'm not trying to, at least. I just know, I-" pause again, really digging. It seemed so clear and easy to say on the way here. "I know I didn't treat you as well as I could. And I was mean to you, and your husband simply because you got together after we broke up. I didn't like that and I wasn't mature enough to process it. It broke my heart, you know."

Those empathetic eyes on that frustrated face. It fucking kills me.  
"I know I broke your heart, Fox. I'm sorry."

"No, it's not that. That's not what I'm here to say."

"Okay."

"It's not an excuse, being broken hearted. Doing shitty things because you love someone doesn't just justify it. I told myself that it did for too long, and I didn't come here to kick myself today, but I just wanted to say that you were a good girlfriend and I don't regret my time with you. It'll always mean a lot to me that you were as good to me as you were. And that your choice to leave was valid, and you shouldn't feel bad about that."

She processes this for a moment. "It's really nice to hear you say that."

She grabs my hand. She looks me in the eyes.  
Fuck, those empathetic eyes.

"You are a good fox. Please do not devalue yourself because of how our relationship ended." She touches my hand. "I would not be who I am today if it were not for you."

You would have been fine without me, I say, smiling through some held back tears. But thank you.

She seems disappointed in me for saying that, but I don't give her a chance to express it.

"Well," I say, getting up from the table, "I said what I said and you know what I mean, so. It's time to ramble."

She laughs. "Goofy ass. Get out of here."

A sad smile meets hers.

I pick up the carnations and head for the door.

"And thank you," she calls after me.

"Thank you," I say before I open the door. "For everything."

* * *

When I get off the train to Central Crossing, I can't help but wonder why anybody would want to live here. The space I live in goes for twice, three times as much.  
I say I wonder but I get that the location just isn't worth it to me.

The apartment I'm headed for is located above Bon Gromdable's Pizzeria. Bon's an asshole, but not genuinely, and I kinda love him for it.  
As I knock on the door five or six times, I hide the bouquet of carnations behind my back. It's ridiculous, and I hope they're not poking out.

Wolf opens the door and his expression goes from blank to surprise.

"Bleeding hell, Fox. What are you doing here?" He blinks at me with his eye. "Been a bloody fortnight, innit?"

"A fortnight indeed," I say, leaning forward to kiss him. Closing my eyes. His lips meet mine and a warmth washes over me.

When we break the kiss, and as eye open my eyes I catch his muzzle and eyes over my shoulder.

"What the cock is that, mate?"

I can't help but laugh as I transition them in front of me and stuff them into his chest. "I got you flowers, dummy. Don't you love them?"

"I'll find a lovely place for 'em in the bin, innit?" He rolls his eye and waves me in. Wolf couldn't give a shit less about flowers until you give them to him as a present, then he gets pleasantly annoyed because you might as well hand him a bag of "rubbish" as he likes to put it.

He tosses them carelessly onto his coffee table and pats the seat on the couch next to him. I sit close and reach around his back to lightly pet his neck with my fingers.

"How was work?" I ask.

"Eh, you know. Same shit. Andrew came in with a doofer off a new ship and did his nut when I didn't know me onions on the new model. How long's it been since I was a pilot? Fucking prat."

"Sounds obnoxious."

"Yeah, he threw a dreadful paddy for a lag that wags off at the only job he can find."

"Dreadful, dreadful paddy," I say, snickering.

"Don't take the piss out of me, you nob. What you get up to?"

"Brought Krystal her shit back," I say, leaning my head on his shoulder, still petting his neck. "Had a talk."

"That slag who gutted you? Blow me."

"She's not that bad. It just hurt my feelings."

"I don't like it when you're feelings get hurt, love." He says it with a hint of sarcasm but I know he means it.

"Sometimes your feelings get hurt at nobody's fault but your own. And sometimes the universe hurts them for you. It's the nature of things."

"Very big of you, innit? I'm chuffed."

"I dunno," I say. But I'm trying.

I look up at him and he looks back down at me. I scoot up the couch and kiss him deeply and he kisses me back the same.  
Our arms wrap around each other and we pull ourselves closer to one another as we make out.

Regret is a funny thing that we constantly misappropriate as a society, I think. Many of us weaponize it as a means to hurt ourselves. To discourage ourselves. Maybe sometimes just to stop ourselves from feeling good about something. I know I do that. I hate that I do it and I know it's stupid. But knowing something to be true just doesn't impact you on the same level as feeling something does. Feelings outclass logic because you feel them. It's so simple and so stupid it might as well be the ultimate joke on us. As simple and stupid it is, it's not always easy to remember or keep in mind. Krystal regrets hurting my feelings, even though she didn't do anything wrong. She just doesn't see it that way. Wolf, even though he doesn't want to admit it, is ashamed of being present at the death of my father. He doesn't like to talk about it and he averts his eyes when the discussion comes up. He speaks simply and apologetically and assures me he's fine, he's just worried about me. Even though it wasn't his fault, it wasn't personal and he had no control over the situation at the time. He's a sweet guy. I've got a lot of demons of my own that I continuously smother myself with once life starts to get too comfortable. Or even worse, when things spin out of control. Perhaps if I keep reminding myself that regret isn't there to hurt myself with, it's there to learn from my mistakes and be the best Fox I can be, I'll start to feel that way, too. If I start to feel that way... who knows? Maybe I can find some semblance of a happy life in all this chaos. Who knows?

Ah, well. We live in hope.


End file.
